Samhain
by Devilish Kurumi
Summary: Cid doesn't really care about Halloween. But then, Vincent shows up... Mild VincentCid. Probably the first in a series, not sure yet. Happy Halloween, everyone!


A/N: Happy Halloween, everybody. This was going to be A LOT different, but then this little guy came along and everything changed. It looks like there might just be more to this storyverse than just a single Halloween-fic.

Cid doesn't swear nearly as much as he should in this. Oh well.

* * *

Cid always assumed that Halloween was for kids who liked to get diabetes at the ripe age of twelve. He likes the idea of Jack O'Lantern and spooks and getting shit-faced while watching horror movies from times that nearly predated Mako energy. 

It doesn't mean he ever does anything for the holiday – other than get shit-faced and watch horror movies, of course.

Over the year since Midgar was destroyed, Rocket Town has boomed, growing nearly twice it's original size practically overnight. Many families from the city flocked to Rocket Town, and he doesn't mind the fact that now there are kids in the streets, playing soccer and, occasionally, coming to him to hear about what, exactly, happened to Midgar and the old Shin-Ra Twenty-Seven that had been in the field for so long.

So now, the items store holds baseballs and bats, hover-boards and, 'tis the season, costumes ranging from scary to adorable, three years to fifteen. Most kids nowadays make their own costumes, but occasionally it's easier to get them from the store... not to mention that you can look over the dozens of types of candies for sale, debating which houses might have what kinds.

Shera is spending the night over at the Doyle's, watching the children while the parents spend the weekend at Costa Del Sol for who knows what goddamned reason. He has all of the classics laying around the room, a bowl of candy – he had heard from one of the Doyle kids what kinds were worth anything – and another bowl of the less interesting candy for the kids.

Shera had given him an annoyed look when he defended his reasoning that since he was older, he deserved the good candy.

Cid sits back in his most comfortable chair and takes up the remote, intending to get about four movies in before the whiskey made it so that he couldn't tell up from down.

Then, the doorbell rings.

Sighing, Cid gets up and makes sure his whiskey bottle is hidden behind the chair – no need to start rumors about the old drunken airship pilot – and heads to the door. He opens it expecting a witch, ghost, and princess.

Instead, he finds one ex-Turk and a young blonde boy with a devil horned headband.

"Vince?"

The sniper looks up from a short conversation with the boy and blinks, before giving him a sheepish, "Sorry For Disturbing Your Drinking" smile. "...Hello, Highwind."

The boy looks up at Vincent, and then at Cid, before mumbling, "Hi, Mr. Highwind."

Cid raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?" he asks, then adds, "And who's the kid?"

"...This is Michael. He..." Vincent shrugs and Cid realizes he's holding...

"...Vincent Valentine, you are holding a very large pumpkin." Vincent's sheepish smile returns.

"Well... Michael wanted to do something Halloween...ish? But Nibelheim isn't in a very big holiday mood." He smirks, now, "I assumed you were going to be spending Samhain drinking in front of the television, so I thought that..."

"Never took you for the babysitting type, Vince," Cid chuckles, holding open the door and letting them in. "You're right, as usual. You know more about me than damned Shera."

"Where is she, tonight?"

"Ah, at one of the Midgar houses," Cid waves a hand, "Babysitting some kids." He sees Michael eyeing the bowl of candy for the kids, and grins, snapping, "Hey, don't touch that!"

The boy looks at him in mild fright, and he points, laughing, "The _good_ candy's over on the chair. Leave that for the brats outside."

Vincent chuckles, already going over to the counter and putting the pumpkin down. "Figures you'd keep all of the good stuff for yourself, you pig."

"Hey, hey, don't judge me," Cid exclaims, "I don't make any comments about you sleeping in a damned box, you don't say anything about my candy." The pilot looks at Michael, who's reading the back of one of the movies. "You gonna take him out, or are you gonna let him eat my candy and sleep on my couch?"

"He doesn't like other people very much," Vincent murmurs, shaking his head. "He's a very shy boy."

"Hell, he's gotta be if you're putting up with him. What's his deal, anyways?"

The sniper looks at the boy for a long while, then shakes his head. "I went with Strife to Midgar to help people relocate, and found him in Sector Nine. He wouldn't leave because his parents weren't found, so I stayed while Strife took people back home." He looks at the pumpkin, putting his golden metal hand on it, "His parents never showed up, so I stayed with him in Midgar until he realized they weren't coming back."

"Shit, Vince..."

"He's been pretty good about it. Still very quiet, but... I don't think that's just his parents. The children aren't very receptive – most of them came from the nicer parts of Midgar." Vincent smiles at Michael when he looks at them. "Want to carve this up?" he asks. The boy grins big and nods, getting up and coming over to the two. "Michael, this is Cid. Cid, Michael."

"Hullo," Michael murmurs, shaking Cid's hand.

"Hey, kid. This moping angst-mop hasn't been _too_ much of a downer, has he?"

Vincent snorts, "Don't call me a _mop_, Highwind."

"No, sir," Michael answers, smiling a little, "Mr. Valentine's been real nice."

Cid chuckles, "So long as he ain't being a downer. You know where all the sharp, pointy objects are, right, Vince?"

"I believe I've done your dishes enough to know where everything is, yes."

"Hey, now, if Shera would spend more time at the house and less time with the Midgar people-"

"Or if you would do your _own_ dishes," Vincent drawls, smiling as he gets out two knives and a large spoon, waving a hand before Cid can counter. "Go watch your movies and be nostalgic, old man."

"Hey, watch your mouth," Cid snaps, heading to his chair nonetheless, "I ain't half as old as you are."

"That's not what the crow's feet say."

"Shut up, you're making me cry."

Cid sits back in his chair and turns on the video. The music is simple but creepy, and he knows that soon enough he's going to be drunk enough to be scared of people in hockey masks jumping out at him with big knives.

Vincent cleans out the pumpkin with Michael's help, and then lets him carve whatever face he wants, standing to the side. Cid chances a look at him and smirks – his arms are crossed and he's leaning casually enough against the counter, but his eyes are following the kid's hands and he's got a smile barely concealing concern on his face.

He looks almost like a mother hen. It's kind of cute.

Cid takes a swig from the bottle and insists he's not drunk enough to start those thoughts.

Michael makes a disappointed noise, pulling the knife out and frowning at a mistake. Cid looks over and sees that the mouth is now missing one pointed tooth.

"Damn it," the boy curses, and Cid smirks. Vincent shoots the pilot a look and then shakes his head.

"It's not a big problem," the ex-Turk says, reaching up into a cupboard and taking out a box of toothpicks. He snaps one in half and then takes the loosed tooth, sticking it in before fitting it back into place. "No one will notice."

Michael blinks. "Never thought of _that_," he mutters, before continuing on the mouth. It's a basic face, with narrowed triangle eyes and a triangle nose, but the boy carved pupils into the eyes and made the mouth wide and large.

_When that gets lit up, it's going to look fucking cool_, Cid thinks, turning back to his movie.

The boy finishes his jack-o-lantern and Vincent picks it up. "We _can_ put this on your doorstep, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Then Shera can't say I don't decorate."

"_You_, hm?" Vincent laughs, and Michael opens the door for him. They go outside for a few minutes and Cid gets up, heading outside as well. The pumpkin is lit up and the mouth looks disturbingly large and it's grinning out at the setting sun. "It's going to be dark, soon," the ex-Turk mutters.

"Yeah. Then we'll have to get up every ten seconds for damned kids. That looks real nice," the pilot tells Michael, who nods.

"Thanks." They head back inside and Cid lets Michael have the chair, sitting down on the floor in front and taking a handful of candy. Vincent sits next to him and gives him a look – he grins and hands him the bowl of candy.

They watch the rest of the movie in relative silence – Michael lets out a few gasps at certain times but generally they know when, exactly, the killer is going to appear. The music just adds to the creepiness factor.

The doorbell rings during the credits and Cid stands up, stretching and grabbing the bad candy. He opens the door and grins at the ghost, princess, and witch, just like he had expected before.

"Hi, Mr. Highwind!" the ghost shouts, "Trick or treat!"

"Hey, kid. Here y' go," he gives them all a huge handful. They grin at him.

"Did you carve the pumpkin, Mr. Highwind?" the princess asks, "It's really neat!"

"Naw, I didn't do that." He jabs a thumb inside and the three look inside at Michael with wide eyes. "My friend, Mike, did it."

"It's really cool!" the witch calls to him. He flushes and nods a little.

"T-Thank you."

"Do you want to come trick or treating with us?" she continues, smiling brightly, "We just started and all the houses are still lit up!"

Michael blinks, eyes widening. "Y-You want m-me to come with you?"

"Yeah, sure!" the ghost says, "I mean..." He looks at Cid, cautiously, "Is that okay?"

"Hell, I dunno. It's up to him and Vince." Cid looks to the two, and Vincent looks at Michael.

"Do you want to go?" he asks the boy, who looks at him with wide eyes.

"You're letting m-me choose?"

"Well," Vincent shrugs, "It's _your_ choice. I think you can handle yourself."

"..." The boy looks at the girl in the witch hat, who is smiling at him, and then at the other two, who don't look hostile at all. "I-I... I guess... Yeah."

"Great! C'mon!" He goes to the door and Cid touches his shoulder.

"Hey, one sec, kid." He goes to the counter and digs out a brown paper grocery bag, going back and giving it to Michael. "Here you go."

"Just... don't stay out too late," Vincent calls as the door closes, Michael smiling at him vaguely.

"Hah, Vince... you sound like a damned mother."

Vincent crosses his arms as Cid comes back and sits in the chair. "He's in my care. I wouldn't want him getting hurt."

"Why are you taking care of him, anyways, Vince?" The pilot leans back and looks at the ex-Turk at his feet. "Isn't Tifa starting up an orphanage or something?"

"It's..." Vincent shakes his head. "I don't want to put him up with them. Strife and his girlfriend are nice people... but..."

"You _like_ the kid," Cid drawls, "And you live in that huge mansion – it's gotta be lonely, even for someone who sleeps in a box."

"Ha, ha, ha."

"So!" Cid moves to the side of the chair, "Sit up here, Vince – you're going to get a crick in your neck if you keep looking up at me."

Vincent stands and manages to fit himself into the side of the chair – it's small, so they're pushed together, but it's pretty comfortable, considering. "Now then. What should we watch..."

"...I like that one about dreams."

Cid laughs, "I've got every single one of those. Okay, then, Elm Street it is."

Cid puts the movie on and they sit back comfortably, making snide comments about the cheesy, over the top blood sprays and laughing over the unfortunate demises of practically every character. They share the bottle of whiskey – Cid never realized how much Vincent could drink.

Cid feels his arm go numb from being stuck between them, and so he lifts it up and puts it over Vincent's shoulder, explaining the situation in the plainest possible terms. Vincent nods in agreement and, as a trade, leans fully against Cid, putting his legs over the arm of the chair so he can be better accommodated.

Halfway through the movie, they finish off the bottle of whiskey, but Cid's comfortable and doesn't want to move to get more. Vincent sighs in defeat, leaning down and putting the bottle out of the way, so Cid doesn't kick it over.

Vincent puts his hand on Cid's leg as he pushes himself back up onto the chair and Cid closes his eyes for a moment.

"I love that woman," Vincent mutters.

"Huh?"

"That... Nancy, or whoever she is. Absolutely brilliant."

Cid rolls his eyes, tugging on a few locks of Vincent's hair. "Remember, man, she's older than _either_ of us now."

"Her _character_, Highwind!" Vincent snaps in mock annoyance.

"Sure, sure." Cid curls the hair around his finger, following it down to the very end. "You ever gonna cut your hair?"

"...I was thinking about it. Why, do you think I should?"

Vincent tilts his head to look at Cid, who shrugs, flushing and looking at the screen.

"I dunno... No. I like it long. It looks all.. dark and mysterious on you." Vincent chuckles and so he adds, "Not that you aren't dark and mysterious without it. Even your eyeliner is dark and mysterious."

"I don't wear-"

"Fuck, don't try hiding it, I know eyeliner when I see it." Cid grins at the other, who shakes his head in annoyance, looking back to the movie.

Vincent is warm against Cid and his hair is soft to the touch, so the pilot spends most of the rest of the movie running his hands through it, brushing it back and twining it around his fingers. He likes Vincent, who's so unlike him that they might as well be exactly the same. He likes him when he's depressed and likes him in the rare moments when he's happy; he likes the way his mouth curves just so when he's in a mood. Hell, he's starting to think he even likes every one of Vincent's many issues.

"...Hey, Vince?" His tongue feels stiff and dry in his mouth.

"Mm?" Vincent shifts against him, his voice sleepy.

"Why... Why'd you come here, tonight, really?" His body feels warm and he hopes that Vincent will answer him truthfully, because sometimes he doesn't – he pretends he doesn't know the difference.

"...I just... felt like it," he mumbles against Cid's shoulder, "It was you or Barret. And he doesn't need me around at the moment."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The pilot weaves his hand through the ex-Turk's hair, leaning over to look at him. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slightly open, as if he's contemplating an answer he knows he can't say.

"I don't know. I don't like Barret, anyway." He sighs, shifting. "I like you."

Cid swears to god he's not blushing and stays quiet through the rest of the movie, closing his eyes.

He feels something warm against him and opens his eyes, yawning. Michael is turning off the TV, and he sees that there's an old quilt of Shera's over him and Vincent.

"Hey, kid," he mumbles, moving to get up.

"Hi, Mr. Highwind... Um, be careful," the boy mumbles.

"Huh?"

"Um... Try not to wake Mr. Valentine up. He hasn't slept for a while and I don't want him to get up if he's relaxed."

Cid looks down at Vincent, who's legs are halfway over the chair and who's head is on his shoulder, breathing nice and slowly. He hasn't seen Vincent sleep well in... he's never seen Vincent sleep well.

"Oh... Hey, Mike. You can sleep on my bed, if you're tired." He looks at the boy, who's looking into the large sack, and grins. "Did you get a good haul?"

"E-Everyone gave good candy. Thank you for the bag."

"No problem. Those kids weren't rough, were they?" He knows the witch and the ghost fairly well – they always come to his house to hear him talk about the Shin-Ra That Was.

"No... They were real nice." Michael smiles, "Thank you for letting me go out."

"Hey, I don't have a say in what you do," the pilot shakes his head, "That's Vince's job."

"Mr. Valentine... I worry about him." The boy frowns and looks at the sniper – Cid does the same, wondering what the kid is so worried about. Vincent would never show weakness to the kid – maybe nightmares woke him up? Vincent doesn't seem like someone to be worried about, not when he's seen the man take out three beasts in one turn. "He doesn't sleep a lot, and he doesn't eat, either. Was he like that when you were traveling with him?"

"Vince?" Cid pushes some of the other's hair away, frowning. "He never slept a lot, but I don't think he was an unhealthy guy. I still don't."

"I don't... I'm just worried. I don't want to have him abandon me too, like mom and dad..." The boy looks struck as he says this – as if he can't believe he thinks like that.

"Vince won't abandon you, kid. Believe me, he's probably the only guy you can trust all the way." He sighs and tilts his head back. He wants a smoke, but Shera doesn't like him smoking in the house. Besides, he'd have to move Vincent, and he kind of likes having the taller man laying against him.

"He says that about you," Michael mutters, shrugging noncommittally. "I just... he's done a lot for me. I..."

"I know, kid," Cid says when the boy runs out of words, "Believe me, I know. The bed's down the hall, first door on the left."

"Thank you, Mr. Highwind."

"Call me Cid, would you?" The pilot shifts to get more comfortable, "Calling me mister makes me feel _old_."

"A-Alright... Cid. Goodnight."

"G'night, kid. Happy Halloween." The boy moves off down the hall, and Cid hears the soft click of the door closing.

Vincent mumbles something against Cid's chest, lifting his head slightly. He looks tired but content and Cid thinks he can't get any prettier. "Thank you," he mumbles.

"For what?"

"For letting me sleep, even if you're horrible at it." The ex-Turk gives him a lazy smile, "I haven't been sleeping very well."

"So the kid says. Why?"

"...Nightmares, as usual. Nothing serious." The pilot rolls his eyes – Vincent is one of those people who would downplay a mortal wound as a scratch.

"Well, you don't have to worry about nightmares tonight," Cid yawns, waving a hand vaguely.

Vincent raises an eyebrow, blinking. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Don't you know anything, Vince?" The pilot chuckles and lays back as much as he can, closing his eyes. "Nightmares, ghosts, goblins... They fuckin' _hate _Halloween. They're not gonna bother you tonight. Besides, I'll whap all the spooks in your depressed little mind for you."

"You're _so _considerate." Vincent lays against Cid again, closing his eyes and mumbling, "The feeling behind the motion, however, is appreciated."

"Stop with the fancy talk and just say 'thank you' next time, alright? Damn Vince."

"Happy Halloween. Now shut up."

Cid laughs through a yawn and puts his arm around Vincent. The other is still warm, and he's leaning fully against the pilot. He looks at the pile of movies he hasn't watched and shakes his head.

Halloween has moved up on his list of favorite holidays ever.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Vincent, Cid, and Shera belong to Squaresoft. Michael is mine. 


End file.
